


What's a Slash Fan?

by WincestSounds (Cammerel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, RP, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/WincestSounds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam admits to reading Slash Fanfiction in order to find out the deal with Wincest, and when Dean refuses to understand it, he sits his older brother down with his lap top. Dean, though, quickly becomes obsessed with the way that slash writers portray Sam some of the time, and it gets under his skin in more ways than he expected. He begins saving them, bookmarking them, and even making an account on Fanfiction.net to keep track of them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's a Slash Fan?

Dean looked back at the computer in confusion, eyebrows narrowing as he considered what Sam was saying. Sam slash Dean… He felt his stomach twist sickly at the thought, “They do know we’re brothers, right?”

Sam looked at Dean and pulled his lips into a straight serious line, “Doesn’t seem to matter.”

“Oh come on, that’s-” The older Winchester stared at the screen, shaking his head in disgust, “That’s just sick.” He closed the laptop and pushed it away, sitting back in his seat.

Sam shifted just slightly in his seat, shrugging his shoulders as he put his elbows on the table, “Well it’s not so bad, not entirely,” Sam ran a hand over his face and looked back at Dean, “I mean, it makes sense… sort of.”

Dean’s brows narrowed more and his eyes flicked over to his brother uncomfortably, “How could that make sense, Sam?”

Sam pursed his lips slightly and contemplated how he could explain this to his brother without completely freaking him out, “The way some of the fans see it, it’s almost like an escape. With all of the crazy and supernatural we deal with, it’s like our relationship is some sort of silver lining,” Sam shrugged again, “I didn’t say I agreed with it one hundred percent. It’s just-it sort of makes sense to a certain extent.”

“Wh-” Dean shook his head, “No, even then. It doesn’t make sense still. I already do that with beer and women, and neither of those are in short supply. Why…” He motioned to Sam.

“I’ve read some of it,” Sam admitted, looking away, “Listen, man. Chances are, you’re thinkin’ it’s worse than it actually is. I mean, I can see how the fans get the whole idea with us being as close as we are.” The younger Winchester knew he wasn’t getting through to his brother, damn if he wasn’t trying though.

Dean rolled his eyes, still shaking his head in disagreement, “I still don’t get why, just because we’re close… I mean, two guys can’t be close without there being somethin’ there? We’re brothers.”

“Right,” Sam nodded, a subtle hint of hurt on his face, “Convince them of that,” He gestured to the computer.

“Why would I even consider you? Even if you weren’t my brother,” Dean took a sip of his beer, looking away.

Sam patted his chest and pouted, looking down at himself, “Hey now, I’m not  **that**  bad looking.”

“No, you’re not bad lookin’, you’re my brother,” The older Winchester stood up, clearing his throat, “I just…” He knew he was taking this too seriously, and, yet, he couldn’t understand why. And he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about it, “Why, Sam? What’s so appealin’? How can I escape anythin’ with someone like  _you_? It doesn’t make sense.” Maybe he was taking it personal, also.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Someone like me?,” Sam stood up too, looking at Dean incredulously, “I think you’re taking this a little too seriously, man. You need to lighten the hell up.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, eyebrows rising, “I’m just not seein’ any real compellin’ reason to fuck my brother.”

“And no one is askin’ you to either,” Sam patted Dean on the shoulder, “Stop thinkin’ about it before you give yourself an aneurysm.”

Dean shifted back from his brother’s touch, side glancing at him before he moved into the kitchen to get himself another beer.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean before sitting back down. He knew Dean could be completely ridiculous about things sometimes. It just hurt a little more than Sam expected when Dean seemed so revolted by the idea.

The older Winchester came back into the room as he popped the cap off on the bottle in his hand, “Wait, you said… that you’d read some of it…?”

“Yeah,” Sam stretched, hooking his arm over the back of the chair, “Apparently, the fans also write  _fanfiction_.”

Dean turned his head, blinking and staring at the wall, “Okay, what’s _fan fiction_?”

“Dude, If the whole slash thing freaked you out this bad,” Sam chuckled, “You’re really gonna flip when I tell you what fan fiction is.” Sam had pulled the laptop over away from Dean, he opened it up and brought something up on the browser, “This-” He pushed it back in front of Dean, “Is _fan fiction_.”

The older Winchester took the laptop gingerly and glanced down to it, his eyebrows narrowing as he read. He went silent, his face staring blankly at the screen, “What am I reading…?”

“ _Fanfiction_ ,” Sam stood and went to his bed to lay down, fussing with his pillow so he could get comfortable, “I guess it’s their way of compensating for what they don’t get out of the books.”

Dean looked at his brother nervously before he tapped lightly to bring up the page for one of them that didn’t sound too horrible. He went silent again, setting his beer on the table as he read.

“If it’s all the same to you,” Sam grunted into the pillow as he rolled onto his stomach, “I’m gonna get some shut eye while you…do that,” He made a gesture with his hand towards the laptop. He knew what Dean was in for, he just didn’t want to be awake for his reaction.

The older Winchester grumbled in agreement and shut the lights out for Sam as he sat before the laptop.

His eyes skimmed over the page he was on, reading the genre marked as ‘romance’, and his stomach squirmed. He recognized his and Sam’s names selected as well, ‘Dean W.’ and ‘Sam W.’, and his eyes began sifting through the list below, ignoring supposed ‘ _sequels_ ’ with a scoff. Fandom fiction having sequels,  _well_.

If he was going to spend his time reading anything-even fandom fiction-it was, at least, going to be good; and well-written. He flicked through a few short ones, carefully picking them out or dropping them once he realized that either him or Sam was horribly out-of-character.

But after three or four read fully through, and he felt like he’d gotten the general idea of it all, he was tempted to give up and sleep as well when he decided on one more (just one more) that caught his attention. It was something about the writer and their sum up, the quick, but interesting pull into the fandom fiction that Dean decided to click it’s title and read.

It was written from  **his**  point-of-view,  _literally_. But that wasn’t the  **only** thing that pulled him in. The emotions, the personality, feelings he’d **never**  expressed outwardly or even spoke of, they were all  _there_. It was like someone had  _read his mind_.

And then there was Sam,  _the Sam in the story_ , the Sam that loved and adored him, and hurt for him. A Sam that wanted to make everything better, easier. And Dean was scared, scared of showing everything, but his brother was there, by his side, comforting him.

It was everything Dean had ever wanted. A brother who was loyal, who cared, who  _loved_  him.

And then they were kissing, and Sam was holding him tight, being rough, being desperate. And Dean wanted more, he was grabbing his brother, pulling him over, on top of himself, down onto the bed-

**But he wasn’t.**

Dean looked down, breathless, his cock straining tight against his jeans and his face flushed.  _Wow_. He was  **actually**  being affected by this fanfiction stuff.

He ignored it though, still breathless with wide, watering eyes as he continued through the story.

It went from being completely wrong and sexy, and dirty, to being intimate and delicate within the change of chapters. And Dean was waking up, folded tight and warm within Sam’s larger arms, kissing him, rolling around in the bedsheets.

Dean had never thought of this before, but now… _He wanted it._

And so, for the next six hours, he sat there as still as a statue, scrolling through the fanfics, eventually making an account, and looking for more specific ones as he favorited and bookmarked the ones he liked the most.

Ones with Sam, ones where he was more… Ones where it wasn’t Dean always carrying the weight of the world alone. He couldn’t help it, as he read, he found himself wanting it;  **really wanting it**. Wanting the Sam that these girls were so obsessed with, the one that, in turn, took care of him. The one that adored him, adored every part of him, the Sam that was attentive to his every need; as he’d been for Sam.

When Sam woke up a few hours later, much to his surprise, Dean was still fixated on the laptop, “Dude, what the hell?”

He slung his legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed his face, “Have you been readin’ this whole time?” Sam was sure that Dean would close the laptop as soon as he got to any of the heated parts, or freak out a little more than necessary at least.

The younger Winchester still didn’t understand why Dean was so grossed out about it; it made sense to Sam, but then again Sam  **was**  always the more logical out of the two.

Dean froze and looked up, slightly taken a back from his brother suddenly waking, “No,” He said at once, face scrunching up as he hurriedly closed the page, “I been readin’ the latest news cases,” He rolled his eyes and reached out for his beer, which had remained untouched all night, and was now completely warm.

Sam stood up and walked to the fridge to grab them both a beer, he sat Dean’s down in front of him, “Good, so what’d you find?”

“Nothin’ too completely obvious,” Dean said as he browsed through the news page he’d had running in the background, and was ignoring, “It’s been quiet for the most part.” He reached out for the beer, smiling at the sentiment, “Thanks.”

“If there’s nothin’ here, shouldn’t we move on?” Sam suggested idly as he took a swig of his beer.

Dean shrugged, “We could, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Sam shrugged and sat down next to Dean, “Just don’t see the point in wasting time here if there aren’t any cases.”

“Well, we don’t have anythin’ else to run off of yet, could just camp here until we find somethin’ elsewhere. No rush, right?”

Sam thought about it for a second, “Would be nice to relax for a day or so,” He admitted. The younger Winchester had considered asking Dean what he thought of the fan fiction, but he bit his tongue to avoid all possible disasters; instead he just feigned a tight smile.

“Good, well,” Dean polished off his beer and set the empty glass by his own room-temperature one, “I’m gonna catch some shut eye, an’… Maybe in a few hours we can have breakfast or… Somethin’?”

“Sounds good,” Sam rubbed his stomach and took the laptop from Dean, “I’ll just keep lookin’ for somethin’ in the meantime.”

The older Winchester’s eyes lingered on the laptop for a moment before he nodded and kicked off his boots, moving to the bed as he shucked out of his jeans.

Sam tapped at the keyboard and looked over the top of the screen, “You really need to invest in a pair of shorts or somethin’.” Sam’s eyes may have lingered longer than necessary at his brother’s legs, but he just convinced himself it was because he’d hardly ever seen them.

“I don’t do shorts, you know that,” Dean said, rolling his eyes as he looked down at his tight black undershorts, “This is as close as I’m gonna get,” He said and climbed onto the bed, sore muscles aching in ways he wasn’t use to. It wasn’t often he sat with his eyes glued to a laptop screen.

“They’d look good on you,” Sam mused, immediately turning his head to reprimand himself for saying that, “I mean, your legs could use some sun,” He tried covering himself.

Dean chuckled mindlessly as he pulled the loose sheet over his waist and laid down, closing his eyes and punching his pillow into shape under his head.

The younger Winchester smiled fondly at his brother before he brought up the last page, figuring he could just continue where Dean left off. Sam looked at the laptop intently, to his resting brother, then back to the laptop. Judging by the browsing history, Dean  **had**  been reading fan fiction almost all night. Sam almost chuckled to himself when he noticed that his brother had even bookmarked a few of them. Sam was curious so he read all of the ones that showed up in the history just to sate his mind.

The ones he managed to read before Dean woke up, mainly consisted of Sam being something that **he** _wasn’t_ ; more nurturing, more attentive to Dean’s needs. He didn’t know if he should take it as a clue, but it hit Sam like a punch to the gut.

* * *

Dean woke up less than three hours after he’d shut his eyes, the internal clock nearly kicking him from the bed and he sat up, wiping his eyes as he shuffled into the bathroom, silent and stiff, to pee. He completely passed his brother without even a glance his way as Dean rubbed the stomach of his shirt.

Sam watched Dean walk to the bathroom, when he came back out Sam closed the laptop and looked up at Dean curiously, “Hey, can I- can I ask you something without you gettin’ all huffy on me?” Sam furrowed his brows.

The older Winchester blinked sleepily and shrugged as he continued rubbing his stomach; now under the shirt, instead of over it, “What?”

Sam crossed his arms, “I’m a good brother right?” The younger Winchester turned in his chair towards Dean, “I mean, you wouldn’t like, trade me in for a better brother…would you?” Sam was probably thinking too much into this whole thing, but it still left a small pang of hurt.

Dean narrowed his brows at the question, his head was still a bit fuzzy, but the answer was obvious, “Of course I wouldn’t, you’re, I… Why would you even think that, Sam?”

Sam shook his head, “It’s nothin’, don’t worry about it,” He stood up, “Get dressed so we can go grab some food, I’m starvin’.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” Dean shrugged again, turning and stepping into his pants. He pulled them up, jumping slightly to get them situated before he walked over to grab his keys from the counter.

“Don’t forget your coat, it’s chilly out and the last thing you need is a cold,” Sam said, sounding more like a nagging girlfriend or a mom as he waited impatiently by the door.

The older Winchester chuckled as he reached out, snatching his jacket from the back of his chair and pulling it on as he walked out of the front door, throwing Sam an amused look.

* * *

Dean slid down into the booth and looked out the window at the fog clutching the road ahead. Sam had been right, of course, it was fucking _cold_. He shivered slightly and picked up his menu, glancing it over as he slowly licked his lips.

Maybe trying to be more attentive to Dean wasn’t such a bad thing, Sam was picking up on things that he hadn’t much paid attention to before. Everything from the way Dean’s lips shined right after he licked them, or how Sam hadn’t realized that green was his favorite color until the light made Dean’s eyes sparkle; when it hit him at just the right angle.

The younger Winchester felt like he had a clamp on his throat and a weight in his gut and anytime he looked at Dean, Sam felt so transparent that he was convinced his brother could read his every thought; see right through him. Sam swallowed hard and pulled his eyes from Dean to look down at his menu.

“I’ll just have a bacon, broccoli omelet, toast, and a coke, please,” Dean said as he observed the breakfast side of the menu. The only thing that was on his mind, really, was getting back to those fanfics; he’d been stopped in the middle of a really good one and he wanted to know how it ended.

“Same, but with water, thanks,” Sam handed their menu’s back to the waitress and looked at Dean again, “You alright, man? Seem a little distant.”

The older Winchester, forefinger rubbing over his chin as he stared out of the window, mind stuck on fanfiction, turned back to his brother, “Hmm?”

Sam leaned in a little, “I asked if you’re okay, you seem really distant,” Sam pointed out, actually a little  **more**  concerned this time.

“I’m fine, yeah,” Dean said, sighing and rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, “Just a bit tired, still.”

“You should probably get some more sleep when we get back in, then,” Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head, “No, I’m good. Don’t worry about me, worry about yourself.” The words were out before he realized he was saying them and the filter had fallen nearly twenty steps behind on that one. It was ironic, telling Sam not to, even though that was what Dean wanted, what he’d been reading all night. But it was what Sam expected, it was the only part Sam knew. He didn’t need to know Dean’s own needs, those weren’t important.

Sam sighed, “Maybe that’s the problem with our whole dynamic, Dean. You’re all the time telling me to worry about myself,” Sam looked away, remembering how different the fanfiction version of himself was, “If you’re lookin’ out for me and I’m only supposed to worry about myself then who’s gonna worry about you?”

“I look out for me,” Dean responded, voice solid, the father tone he used when he needed Sam to listen to him. He didn’t need that from his brother; the pity party. He could always just… _Read fanfiction, yeah_ … Dean was becoming one of those, a  **slash**  fan.

“Whatever, man,” Sam put his hands up in defeat, “Just let me return the favor sometimes.”

“I don’t need your sympathies, Sam,” Dean said, louder than he’d intended, as the waitress came over and set their food down before them.

“Right,” Sam picked at his food, having lost his appetite, “Because caring about my brother obviously means I feel sorry for him,” Sam was being a little more sarcastic than he wanted to be, but it didn’t feel good to try and be a better brother only to have Dean shove it back in his face.

The thing was, Sam had always cared pretty deeply about Dean, but this was the  **exact**  reason why he’d never really acted more concerned.

The older Winchester ignored a good response to that and began wolfing down his omelette before he had the urge to throw it up over his brother. He stood once he was done, fast, and obviously tired of the diner as he pulled cold cash from his wallet and slammed it down, leaving the vicinity with the quick shuffle of his jeans.

Sam stood and followed silently, confused at how his brother was acting.

* * *

The entire drive back to the motel had both of Dean’s fists on the steering wheel and his lips tight in clear annoyance. He didn’t know how to explain himself, all he felt like at that point was that Sam was annoying him, and Sam hadn’t  **done**  anything really, had he?

He just wasn’t  _that_  fucking Sam; the one Dean’d been reading about all night. He felt bad for feeling that way, but he wanted it. He wouldn’t… Wouldn’t mind… Getting lost in his brother, escaping the fucked up stuff in their life some times, by being with Sam.

Sam was pretty sure he must’ve been delusional when he thought that maybe Dean had wanted him to be more caring, because  _that_  worked out so well. He wasn’t sure what was up his brother’s ass, but if Dean kept treating Sam like this, Sam was about ninety percent sure he’d end up beating it out of him.

Being around the older Winchester was almost exhausting in a way, and a little eerie, with how quiet Dean had been growing, “I think you need to tell me what’s going  on, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Dean parked the car with a jerk of the breaks and shut her off, climbing out of the Impala and walking into their room without another look back to his brother. The more he thought about it, the more it made him feel really sick, and guilty. He shouldn’t want Sam like this. He should just want his brother the way he  **is**. That should be enough.

Sam walked into their room and slammed the door, he was fuming at this point, “Really? You’re just gonna ignore me?” Sam  **hated**  being angry at Dean, especially when he’d otherwise just want to hug and…kiss him.

 _Wait_.

It made sense now, as to why Sam was so hurt when the slash idea had Dean almost puking, because it didn’t seem that bizarre to Sam. It wasn’t difficult for Sam to imagine being completely happy and involved with his brother, it was something he’d wanted even before stumbling upon the fanfiction. It was something Sam had denied to himself for years.

The older Winchester took off his jacket and nearly chucked it across the room he was so angry, but he settled for shoving it onto the bed as he toed from his boots. With time on their hands, he wasn’t sure how he was going to stand being around Sam, stuck in this motel room all day.

“Dean,” Sam pleaded, pulling on his brother’s shirt, trying to get Dean to look at him, “Would you just fuckin’ talk to me? What did I even do?”

“You didn’t do anything,” Dean said at once, moving away from Sam as he kept his eyes from his brother’s, licking his lips. Having the concerned younger Winchester there, blaming himself, made Dean seriously feel like shit.  _God, he was a horrible person._

“Would you just look at me?” Sam hadn’t got a good look at Dean’s eyes since the diner and  **damn** , he missed them already, “If I didn’t do anything then why are you treating me like shit?”

Dean shook his head and turned completely away from Sam, “It’s nothin’, okay? Forget it already and get off my goddamn back.”

“You haven’t even acted the same since I told you about the  _fanfiction_ , Dean,” Sam clenched his jaw and grabbed Dean’s forearm, “If it’s that much of an issue and it bothers you that bad, I’m sorry. I can’t control what people write.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, alright?” Dean moved again, pulling his arm from Sam and making distance as he walked to the far bed, “Just stop thinkin’ that you do, okay? Stop assumin’ shit, you don’t know anythin’.”

“I always assumed you were a homophobe, Dean, but this is taking it to a whole new level,” Sam walked to the door and grabbed the knob, almost frustrated to the point of crying, “And you’re right, I don’t know anything because my stubborn jackass of a brother won’t talk to me.”

“Why do you keep assumin’ shit, even after I’ve told you not to?” The older Winchester said in annoyance, “I’m not a fuckin’ homophobe, that’s not even close to the problem, Sam. Guys fuckin’ doesn’t bother me, not even in the slightest, so why assume somethin’ stupid like that?”

“What the hell am I  _supposed_  to fuckin’ think?” Sam let go of the door knob like he was being pulled back into the room by some gravitational force.

Dean narrowed his brows and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer, “You’re not suppose to think a damn thing, that was the idea. Why do you keep fuckin’ pushin’ me?”

“You know what? I’m done,” Sam took his coat off an laid on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, “I don’t even care anymore.”

 _Exactly_ , Dean wanted to say, but he fought himself. Instead, he popped the top to his beer, walked back into the room, and seated himself at the table as he turned the laptop on.

“Just wake me up or something when you’re done with my laptop so I can do some research,” Sam laid his arm over his face, “God knows you won’t get anything done with your nose in those stories.”

Sam wasn’t stupid, he’d seen how many stories Dean had favorited and bookmarked. He had to either be watching anime or reading the fanfiction and Sam was pretty sure it was the fanfiction. He was still fuming, but he was trying to calm himself down.

Everything Dean did just confused Sam at this point. What did Sam get for trying to be more concerned and attentive? He got Dean treating him like a piece of shit.

Dean felt himself bristle and pale at the words and he looked up to his brother, “What did you just say?” He felt like he was gonna be sick.

“You heard me, Dean,” Sam mumbled into his arm, not even looking at Dean, “Next time clear the history.”

Dean nearly swallowed his tongue, “Sam…”

“No, I get it,” Sam sat back up, this time looking at Dean like he’d been kicked, “I’ve read a few, but why’ve you been such an ass? It’s not like I forced you to read anything.”

The older Winchester swallowed, “You… You  **read**  some of them…” His face flushed and he looked away, feeling the cold slosh of sick pass over him.

“Yeah,” Sam looked down, “Even tried acting more like…” The younger Winchester shook his head, “It’s not important. Still doesn’t explain your behavior.”

Dean looked down at his hands on the keyboard, watching as the tears filled his eyes and blurred them out. Sam had  _read_  those. Dear god, and what he’d asked him, when Dean had woken up, it all made sense, “Sam…”

Sam stood up and walked over to Dean, he trapped his brother between his arms by leaning over and placing both of his hands on the back of the chair just behind Dean’s head, his face just inches from the older Winchester’s, “You know, for someone who was so completely disgusted by the idea, you sure do like quite a few of those stories,” Sam nodded to the screen.

The older Winchester tried to look anywhere but his brother’s face, feeling the guilt wash over him again. He didn’t  **want**  to like the Sam in those fanfics, but he did. He couldn’t help it.

“I tried acting more like him,” Sam gestured to the computer again, “ _That_ version of me.” The younger Winchester didn’t take his eyes off of Dean once, he just leaned in a little closer, “Am I not good enough, Dean?”

Dean winced at the words and dropped his head, feeling his eyes sting as he considered the question. He didn’t want to answer it, he didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to hurt Sam.

Sam used his right hand to grab Dean’s chin, jerking it up to make him look at Sam, “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it,” The younger Winchester shook his head slightly as tears started to blur his vision, “What am I doing wrong?”

To say things were escalating quickly was an understatement. Sam felt a wave of both anger and hurt wash over him, but what made him feel sick was how being this close to Dean  _excited_  him.

“I don’t know… What I want,” Dean said, words choking up in the middle, “I don’t know what I want, Sam.” That was partly a lie, he  **knew** what he wanted, he wanted both. But to pick from them, to actually choose to be like that with his brother; it was bothering him.

Sam’s grip on Dean’s chin went from hard to soft as he cupped Dean’s cheek, his eyes constantly flickering to his brother’s lips, “I  **need**  you to figure out what it is you want, Dean, because the way you’ve been treating me is a little cold and we  **both**  know that I don’t deserve it.”

“You don’t,” The older Winchester agreed at once, “You don’t, Sam. I’m sorry.” His body was responding, being this close to Sam, and he found himself leaning into the touch, closing his eyes and parting his lips.

Sam’s face was close enough that he was sure Dean could feel his breath on his lips, “Is this really so bad?” The younger Winchester took Dean’s hand and pulled it to his chest, his eyes flicked to the laptop screen, “I’m _real_ , Dean. I’m right here in front of you;  **tangible**.”

“I know, I j-” Dean squeezed his eyes tighter shut, “But I…” His hand gripped into Sam’s shirt as the tear slipped down his cheek and he didn’t think he could say anything more without completely falling to pieces.

“Right,” Sam’s face went a little cold, “You don’t want me like  _that_. I get it.” Truth be told though, he didn’t get it. Dean had spent hours reading fanfiction about the two of them and  _now?_  Now Sam could barely get Dean to look at him. The younger Winchester felt like he was getting whiplash.

Dean shook his head, he wanted to say it, but he wasn’t sure. He was afraid of making the last step, terrified, he didn’t know if he could. He didn’t even  **consider**  something like this before yesterday, the thought had never occurred. Dealing with these emotions now, it was all so fast, and he wasn’t sure if he could break through another set of doors so fast.

Even if Dean pushed him away, Sam wanted to be able to at least say that he tried. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Deans pointedly, lingering momentarily before he pulled back; waiting for any sort of reaction. Sam’s hazel eye’s searched Dean’s curiously, frantic for anything that could tell him what to do next.

The older Winchester felt his heart tighten as his brother’s lips touched his suddenly and he stilled, only opening his eyes when Sam drew away and he stared up at his brother longingly, hands resting in his lap as he blinked in slight surprise, “Sam…”

Sam let his hand drop from Dean’s face as he backed away, still looking down at Dean as he shrugged;  _hopeless_ , “Nothing?”

Dean’s brows narrowed and he looked back down to his hands. He was tired of fighting this, he was fucking exhausted with dealing with it all, how could Sam ask this of him after  _everything_? Reading fanfics was one thing, but this… This was serious. This would change them.  _He couldn’t do it._

“Of course not,” Sam grimaced, looking away from his brother. Any possible hope he held out was killed by the look on Dean’s face, it was stupid of him to think that there was any possibility in the first place. Now that Sam had ruined everything, how was he supposed to fix things?

Dean looked towards the laptop longingly, his mind wondering over the things he’d read. His eyes moved then, to his brother, seeing the torment that the younger man was going through. At the end of the day it was always Dean giving in, Dean giving things, Dean sacrificing, Dean opening himself up. And, with this, if he didn’t, what would happen then? He didn’t have a choice. He had to.

Sam was always far more selfish there. He wasn’t the fanfiction Sam, but he was Dean’s brother. And Dean had to accept him that way; whether it was what he wanted and longed for, or not.

“I do,” He managed out weakly, staring at his brother, “I do… Want you… Like that.”

Sam turned back around, scanning Dean’s face for any trace of a lie, “Please, d-don’t fuck with me,” Sam ran his hand over his face, shaking his head in disbelief.

The amount of realizations that Sam had come to since yesterday was short of mind blowing. It was crazy how effortless it was for Sam to come to terms with the fact that he loved his brother, in more than a platonic way. The way Dean had been treating him wasn’t something Sam was used to and it fucking hurt like hell. He knew that if this thing, whatever this was between them, if it was just dangled in Sam’s face only to be taken away; he knew to his very core that it would  _break_  him.

“You think I would play with somethin’ like this?” Dean asked, feeling slightly disappointed that his brother would even consider that, “Look me in the eyes an’ tell me I don’t mean what I just said.”

Sam stood there, looking into Dean’s eyes for the better part of five minutes. He wanted to believe it, wanted to so badly it made his bones ache, “Prove it.” He knew that this was pushing it, but he needed more confirmation than just  _a few words_.

The words were wrong. They bothered Dean more than anything, that his brother wouldn’t just believe him, that Sam wouldn’t just  _know_ ; wouldn’t trust him like he wanted Sam to. It was asking more of him, but it was **always**  asking more of him.

He figured though, as he had probably too many times in the past, _in for a penny, in for a pound._  He got up and walked to his brother, grabbing the front of Sam’s shirt in his fist and pulling the larger man down to him before carefully, breathlessly, hesitantly, touching his lips to Sam’s.

Sam’s breathing hitched and it took him a minute to realize that Dean was actually right here, right in front of him and kissing him. It wasn’t mind blowing, more cautious than anything, but Sam grabbed the back of the older Winchester’s neck and pulled him in closer. The kiss was a little more frantic and needy on Sam’s part, he was afraid of Dean pulling away.

Dean dragged Sam down more, his other hand grabbing a fistful of the side of his brother’s shirt, right against his right hipbone. He moaned, a weak, sad, broken sound as his mouth opened for more, practically attacking Sam’s in turn.

In between kisses, Sam pressed his forehead to Dean’s, managing a simple, “I’m so sorry,” before stealing another. How something could feel so wrong yet feel so right left Sam confused, but he wanted more and he knew that was a lot to push on Dean in one day.

Dean was clutching onto his brother so hard that it was painful to pull back from Sam, and every ounce of him just wanted to plunge forward, and probably make some serious, violent mistakes with the larger man, but he resisted.

Heavy breaths came out from between his swollen lips, his cheeks were flushed more red than his brother had ever seen, freckles in a brutal smatter under his eyes as he stared up at Sam. Half of him was really shy about this, considering he’d just latched onto Sam’s mouth, and he’d never been so ruffled and open, and exposed with his brother. The other half was located in his pants, rock hard and stubborn like the rest of him.

He didn’t know what to do now, talk? Read more fanfics? Let Sam sleep? Probably talk. But, whatever it was, it couldn’t, shouldn’t, would  **not**  be sex. He refused to go that far in one sitting. Not with Sam, never with Sam. Sam wasn’t some cheap lay, an easy one-nighter. He respected his brother. He’d take his time with this. Because they  **had**  time for each other, they  **made**  time, always.

It wasn’t much, but Sam wrapped his arms firmly around Dean and pressed their bodies together into a tight hug to keep him from pulling away. The younger Winchester’s heart damn near broke at the vulnerability on his brother’s face. _What have I done?_  A plethora of ‘I _‘m so sorry_ ’s’ and ‘ _please forgive me_ ’s’ tumbled from Sam’s lips, making him sound desperate. Sam could feel a sob caught in his  
throat, sitting sickly and taunting him with every swallow.

“Sam, I…” Dean didn’t know what to say, he felt lost, dazed, torn up between what he should and shouldn’t do now. That… That  **had**  been what he’d wanted, right? Had Sam wanted it? What did this make them? Hell, above anything else, was he even ready for a  **serious**  relationship? _Could it **be**_  a serious relationship? Should it? How do you do something like this, with your brother?

That last part didn’t matter so much, they murdered on a weakly basis, stole money every time they swiped a credit card of theirs, impersonated officers of the law, and Dean had died more times than he’d care to count. What was incest over that? But still. He and Sam weren’t a solid thing, not always, they wavered, they made mistakes.  _They hurt each other_. How could something like  _this_  even begin to happen?

Sam swallowed hard and sighed a little as he pulled back from his brother, palming lightly at his wet eyes. This wasn’t something light, this was thick and Sam could practically feel the tension between them. The younger Winchester wasn’t sure how, but he’d make things better; had to because he was the one that fucked up.

 ”God, Dean. I am so sorry, can’t believe I fucked up this bad,” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose roughly and closed his eyes. Sam felt selfish, to let himself indulge in one little opportunity that he’d been denying to himself since he was old enough to want anything; _to want Dean_.

Dean’s body actually shook at his brother’s words and he reached up, removing his hand from the larger man’s shirt as he took Sam’s face in them and thumbed the still, slight wetness from under his brother’s eyes. “Don’t be,” He said, feeling his chest tighten up, “Sam, don’t be.”

He didn’t want his brother feeling guilty for responding to what was, clearly, Dean’s fault.  _He’d_  read those fanfics,  _he’d_  gotten obsessed,  _he’d_ wanted for, lusted for, a different brother, it was him; not Sam. Having the large man try to take the blame was something he couldn’t allow.

Sam clenched his jaw and dropped his arms angrily, “I just- I shouldn’t have told you what a slash fan was or-or explained the fan fiction. But no, I thought maybe this was my chance,  _finally_ , after all this time,” The younger Winchester sat down on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, “I shoulda known better.”

“Would you stop blamin’ yourself for this?!” Dean shouted, staring at Sam, his lips set in a hard line as he moved to stand before his brother, “Don’t you blame this whole thing on yourself, Sam. Don’t you do that. You understand, I-… We-we gotta figure this out, we gotta fix this, not just you, not you alone, you understand? It’s  _my_  fault. But I can’t fix this alone, an’ neither can you.”

Sam shook his head loosely in his hands, threading his hair between his fingers, “How are we gonna fix this, Dean?” Sam looked up at his brother through his shaggy bangs with sparkling wet hazel eyes, “It’s not like we can just rewind time and forget it happened.” The younger Winchester felt a sharp pain in his chest, he didn’t want to forget it.

It was hard for Sam to savor what little bit of Dean he was granted because Sam couldn’t help but see regret in Dean’s eyes when he looked at him. Maybe it was just Sam’s over active imagination messing with him but, then again,  _maybe it wasn’t._  
Sam dropped his head again as his hair shadowed his face, he ghosted his finger tips over his lips remembering the heat that his brother exuded.

“I don’t wanna forget it,” Dean said, reaching down and forcing Sam to look up at him. It broke his bones, seeing his brother in so much pain, seeing Sam look so conflicted and scared. He thought it’d been bad when the larger man had lost Jess, but this was so much worse. He liked that, the idea that he had more effect, but he didn’t like seeing Sam have to go through this.

But he wouldn’t do it alone, not as long as Dean had something to say about it, “I wanna talk with you, about this, so’s we can figure it out together. What should this be? What do we want? What do  _you_  want? What do  _I_  want? We’re adults, we’re brothers, an’ we’re goin’ to handle this like both of those. One step at a time, okay? You gotta trust me with this, Sam. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“You’ve gotta promise me, I can’t lose you, Dean,” Sam shook his head profusely, “No matter what we decide on, you gotta promise.” It was almost painful to have to look at Dean’s face and not follow through with the urge to just kiss him, “I want whatever you want, anything you want I’ll be okay with.”

And if that meant Dean didn’t want to be with Sam the same way that Sam wanted to be with Dean, then Sam would force himself to be okay with that; he’d have to.

_You’re it, you’ve always been it for me, Dean. If you don’t want me then I promise to do my best and smile even when it hurts, I’ll do whatever you need me to do because the thought of losing you is and always will be enough to keep me in line from now on._

The older Winchester moved closer, his knees just a hair higher than Sam’s, his brother’s eyes barely level with Dean’s waist.

“No,” He said, thumb brushing the larger man’s jaw as he stared, serious and unblinking, almost directly down at Sam now, “That’s not how this works, it’s not about what I want, Sam. I’m not gonna be a complete ass an’ put this on your shoulders, I want us both to decide together, to be open together. I… I wanna know what you want, too, not just me. We’re in this together, do you understand?”

Sam grimaced and wondered if it could just be that easy, just tell Dean what he wants, “Okay, but what do  **you**  want?” The younger Winchester couldn’t peel his eyes away from Dean’s if he wanted to, the serious gaze holding Sam’s attention. For as stubborn as Dean was ninety percent of the time, it was like watching someone else entirely being so open minded and willing to talk this through.

Dean let out a heavy, beaten sigh and he blinked, eyes becoming considerably glassy as they filled with tears, “I’m honestly-” He stopped himself.

He’d set painful examples for Sam in the past, putting himself on the line to show his little brother that ‘ _it’s not as hard as it looks_ ’, and this was one of those times. Dean would have to bare the weight, in order to show Sam, not only  _how_  it was done, but that his older brother  _could_ , and  _had_ , done it as well.

He amended his statement, forcing the right words out instead, “I want you to care, I… I want you to love me _like that_ ,” He looked at the laptop for a moment. “I want to have you, as an escape, as a brother, as a partner. I don’t care how. I just want  **you**.”

Sam could feel his lips quivering as he listened to his brother speak, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut, “I do, I’ve loved you like  _that_ since I was thirteen. I don’t show it because I’m afraid, was always afraid of your resentment.” The younger Winchester lifted his hand and grabbed a few of his brother’s fingers just for the connection.

“You can have me  **any**  way you want me. I’ve always been your’s anyways.”

 _Why spare the details? They were going for the truth right?_  Sam wanted more than anything to stand and kiss away his brother’s tears, do anything to replace the sadness with a smile.

Dean bent down, slow and careful, thumbs brushing his brother’s sideburns, cupping his cheeks as he leaned low, licking his lips before pressing them to Sam’s in a soft, tentative kiss. His chest surged, the hairs on his arms standing up and he made a weak, appreciative sound, almost like a whimper.

Sam’s eyes closed a second after their lips touched and he raised his hand to hold the back of Dean’s neck, not pulling and not pushing; simply touching. The younger Winchester sighed in relief against his brother’s lips, his chest no longer full of lead but replaced with air instead; he could finally breathe.

Dean’s brows rose, stomach twisting as his brother touched him, not in discomfort, but in the seriously dizzying, euphoric, drunken burst of adrenaline that you get when you’re with someone for the first time. He groaned into Sam’s mouth, body shaking as he tilted his head and parted his lips to deepen the kiss.

His eyes blinked open and he stared, observing his brother’s face in adoration and reality, reminding him who it was he was kissing.

Sam’s body was working in overdrive as he tried to limit himself to just the one touch. The younger Winchester, honest to God whimpered when his brother pressed for more, Sam’s lips were working in turn, more than happy to comply. Sam’s long fingers touched the small hairs on the back of Dean’s neck delicately, afraid to move forward anymore.

The older Winchester wasn’t an expert on speed with someone that you planned to date, or be in a serious relationship with; he was sure they had more to talk about, but he needed something to settle down all of his nerves. His hands buried in the back of Sam’s hair, cradling his head as Dean, unable to stop himself, literally climbed into his brother’s lap. His neck was aching from the strain, so it wasn’t just being so completely turned on and wanting more, he was  **also**  trying to get somewhat comfortable.

Sam laid his free hand gently against his brother’s outer thigh, making sure he didn’t let it wander. The younger Winchester had used a fair amount of self control in the past, but this tested Sam’s restraints more than anything else ever had; to want something so badly, but to be afraid to touch it. Dean’s lips were full, warm and felt like Heaven on Sam’s as he pressed back with a little more enthusiasm, not wanting Dean to think that he was bored with the situation; obviously that was anything but the case.

Sam had to ask himself if this was a dream a couple of times, pretty sure he actually said it outloud at least once. The desire, the want, the  _need_  to be the only one who Dean depended on in more ways than one had overwhelmed Sam since puberty. And here was the opportunity.

“M’not a goddamn glass vase, Sam, you can do more,” The older Winchester said as his lips moved from his brother’s mouth, trailing kisses from freckle to mole, to the side of his jaw. He didn’t want to go far, he really didn’t want to. He shouldn’t. _But this is fine, a little bit more than this is fine too, right?_  “Please, do more.”

It felt like someone undid shackles on Sam’s wrist’s and he wrapped both of his arms around Dean’s waist, literally lifting his brother up as he turned them both around and pressed Dean’s back onto the bed.

The sight before him almost took the younger Winchester’s breath away, the glint of his brother’s green eyes and the way Sam could’ve sworn Dean was smiling even though his lips were straight as a line, “I know you won’t break, I just-,” Sam kissed the crease between his brother’s brows, “Don’t trust myself to stop after wantin’ you for so long.”

The younger Winchester pushed his fingers through the top of Dean’s hair, adjusting the front of it up in the most adorable way Sam’s ever seen; he was pretty sure he chuckled at that.

Dean’s eyes widened at this different side of his brother. He liked it. Seeing Sam smiling, hell,  **laughing** , made him just want more of this, to see the younger Winchester so free and open. He’d let Sam ruffle the hell out of his hair if he could keep those goddamn dimples as deep in the larger man’s cheeks as they were now.

“We got time, Sam,” He said, “We got as much time s’you want. There’s no need to rush nothin’, let’s just enjoy this.” He’s never been given the opportunity to savor a relationship, to take his time with something. He wanted to, with Sam, he wanted to learn his brother in ways he’d never imagined before, he wanted to memorize every mole, every flex of muscle, every scar, not as a brother, but as a lover.

Sam bit his bottom lip as he tried to subdue his goofy grin, the smallest things when it came to Dean just made him inexplicably happy. The younger Winchester dropped his head and kissed his brother’s chest through his shirt, his fingers still playing with his brother’s hair idly. Everything Sam ever wanted was laying beneath him with big green eyes, freckles, and bowlegs wrapped around his waist; there was no way Sam **couldn’t**  enjoy this.

Dean stared up at his brother, the clear love and adoration displayed across his features as he touched Sam’s face. “I’ve never had anythin’ like this,” He said softly, not really realizing he was speaking out loud, “Somethin’ for my self, somethin’ that was mine.” His thumb traced his brother’s brow, his nose, the curve of Sam’s bottom lip, “I never even thought of it before, but I want it, so bad, Sammy. I want this for us, we gotta have somethin’.”

“I want  **you** , no one else, just you,” Sam leaned into his brother’s touches, “I want you when you’re sick, I want you when you’re a jerk.” The younger Winchester gave Dean a chaste kiss, “M’even gonna want you when you’re old and wrinkly,” Sam’s face pulled tight in a wide smile.

The older Winchester chuckled, “Well, we probably won’t last that long, but thanks for the sentiment.” Dean bit his bottom lip and side-stepped the odd statement, “So, f’this is serious, it’s serious, right? Just us, we’re… What? Goin’  _steady_?” He looked at Sam’s lips, “Datin’? Monogamous, one an’ only,  **serious**?”

The younger Winchester’s smile softened and he laid his head on Dean’s chest, “You wanna put a label on it?” Sam looked up at his brother a little, “You tryna tell me you wanna be my boyfriend?”

“M’tryna tell you that I don’t wanna share you,” Dean said, fingers combing through Sam’s hair, “M’ sayin’ that… That I don’t wanna see you with anyone else but me.” His other hand moved, resting over Sam’s as his thumb brushed the knuckles of it, “F’that makes me your boyfriend, sure. Lover, mate, partner, I don’t care what the title is, long as you’re mine.”

Sam reveled in the words his brother was saying, growing up it always burned Sam to see Dean with anyone else and now Dean was saying he didn’t want to share Sam, “You realize…” Sam trailed kisses from Dean’s mouth down to the pulse point on his neck, “Being my boyfriend entitles you to a few things.”

“Mm?” Dean’s brows rose as he smirked, he felt his pants tightening again, the husky voice of his brother was so new, and he would probably never get use to it, but he hoped that didn’t mean Sam wouldn’t use it all of the time, it made his legs feel like jell-o.

“Like what?” He asked, his own voice getting heavier.

“Well, for starters,” Sam leaned back up and pressed his lips heatedly to Dean’s, tilting his head to quickly escalate the kiss, “You’ll get those daily.”  _Every second, every minute, every hour of every day, if you want them._

The older Winchester felt his body responding, rising to press against Sam as he moaned into each kiss, his heart racing and then slowing, racing and then slowing with each. He stared at his brother, flushed and breathless by the end, eyes so black that the green was a thin line around them and he stared at the larger man, “Wh-what else?”

Sam laid pressed against Dean, their lips ghosting. The younger Winchester moved the palm of his hand down his brother’s outer thigh, squeezed and hiked it higher up on his hip as he rolled into Dean. Sam repeated the motion a few times, enough to both have him painfully hard and to get the point across, “You get me  _any_  way you want me,” Sam thrusted again and bit Dean’s collar bone through his shirt, “Whenever you want me.”

Dean’s hips bucked as his cock throbbed, so hard it hurt, and the moan that escaped his lips was a soft, painful whine of pleasure, as if he was trying not to come and, honestly, he really was trying.

His brother, goddamn, who would’ve thought Sam would be so dominant and… And seriously suggestive. Dean’s whole body felt suddenly hyper aware, in away that every  **single**  one of his other partners had never made him feel, even Cassie. “Sam,” He gasped, hands grabbing the larger man’s shoulders as he buried his face in Sam’s neck, breathing in the familiar musk of his brother’s body wash, “Goddamn, Sammy, god _damn_.”

“You like that?” Sam murmured in his brother’s ear and rolled his hips again, not really wanting to stop because  **goddamn** , did it feel good. The younger Winchester never imagined his brother would look so good, so pretty all laid out and needy beneath him.

“Sam,” Dean grabbed his brother’s face, looking into his eyes, his own brows knitted together in the familiar expression of frustration he wore some times, lips swollen from kissing, scrunched together as he tried to keep himself calm and he kissed Sam, hips grinding back.

Sam continued the motion, bumping their noses together before he stole another kiss. It was embarrassing because Sam wasn’t a teenager anymore, but to be fair, it was  _Dean_ underneath him. Sam knew he was a few short thrusts and a kiss or two away from coming in his jeans, the heated outline of his brothers cock against his own, “Jesus fuck, Dean.”

“Get your goddamn pants off,” Dean breathed, voice shaky as he pushed Sam back, his own chest heaving. He knew they were both close, and it was inevitable at this point, but he’d at  **least**  be comfortable while doing it. “I… I don’t wanna do everythin’ now, but so help me, Sam… I’m not comin’ in my goddamn pants.”

Sam stood back on wobbly legs and slid his jeans down over his sharp cut hips, his eyes not leaving Dean as he did so. The younger Winchester smirked and tucked his thumbs under the elastic of his boxers to engage Dean’s reaction, “Skin on skin or do you want me like this?”

Dean nearly bit through his bottom lip, eyes widening slightly as he said it before asking himself, “Skin on skin,” he  **needed**  to feel Sam against him, he had to have that, or he might actually die. His own hands moved, taking off his shirt as they shook with his nerves.

Sam pulled his shirt off, then dropped his boxers in one swift motion, it’s not like he had anything to be ashamed of; quite the opposite actually. They weren’t going to do anything more than this, but he could see Dean’s nerves getting the best of him. The younger Winchester hovered back over Dean and hooked his fingers underneath the top of Dean’s jeans and helped him pull them down, kissing the right side of his brothers hip in the process.

Dean looked down at his brother, swallowing thickly as his fingers brushed through Sam’s hair, his cock getting even harder as the younger Winchester helped undress him. He reached back up and the tight black boxer-briefs followed shortly after the pants. He wasn’t shy, ever, when it came to his nudity but, even now, with his amulet as the only thing left to cover him, he found his cheeks heating up.

The younger Winchester smeared kisses from Dean’s hips clear up to his neck and then he eventually ended up on his brother’s mouth, smiling against his lips as he felt the almost electric feeling bristling between their bare skin.

Sam rested his hands on Dean’s hips and he could have came from just feeling how soft Dean was compared to how he looked, silky soft and melting through Sam’s fingers, “You feel amazin’.”

Dean took his bottom lip between his teeth, hands reaching out to touch Sam’s chest, his right caressing their identical tattoo, his left moving along the sculpted muscles of his brother’s stomach. He was only slightly astonished at how much more solid Sam felt, the clear strength underneath hard cords of muscle, “Son of a bitch,” He said, smiling weakly as his eyebrows went up.

Sam pressed flush against Dean and almost moaned aloud at how good it felt with his cock being next to Dean’s, pressed firmly between the both of them. The younger Winchester nuzzled his face into the crook of his brother’s neck, his tongue tracing a few freckles as he rolled his hips once experimentally. It’s one thing to do this with jeans on, an entirely different sensation doing it naked, “Shit.”

“Sam,” Dean choked, his own hips shifting with his brother’s, hands fisting the skin underneath them as his forehead dropped against the larger man’s shoulder. With most, he’d already be having sex right now, Dean didn’t  _often_  partake in grinding to get off, or time. It was normally get off and get off fast. And, where he probably was going to, fast, with Sam, it normally wasn’t like this, the explosions in front of his eyes, the chill bumps from the back of his head to the insides of his thighs, his  _brother’s_ voice in his ear.

Sam grinded against Dean relentlessly, panting into Dean’s neck as his hands held onto his brother’s hips, “Can’t, Dean, you feel…” He nosed at Dean’s scruff, “Too good.” The younger Winchester would have felt silly if it didn’t feel so good, he was sure they looked like two horny teenagers fooling around.

“Goddamn, Sammy,” Dean reached between them, taking their lengths together in his fist, the other hand gripping tight in his brother’s hair, “Come on, baby boy, come for me,” He said, his own hips thrusting up, his eyes wide as he pulled Sam’s head back to look at the larger man’s face as he came, thick ropes of pearly white spilling over his stomach, globs of it catching in his belly button.

“Dean,” Sam tensed and closed his eyes tight as he bucked a few more times into his brother’s hand before releasing, Sam’s warm come mixing in with Dean’s, “ _Fuck_.” The younger Winchester’s body almost instantly felt lax.

The older Winchester continued pumping their lengths together, milking them as he kissed Sam’s shoulder, “Fuck…” He repeated his brother as he panted. Yeah, they just came like fucking virgins feeling up their crushes in a dark closet during five-minutes-in-heaven.

Sam pressed his forehead to Dean’s and almost chuckled, unable to believe that they both got off so quickly. He slumped down onto Dean and feathered his brother’s face with kisses, “That was kinda embarrassing.”

“I’m not normally like that,” Dean said in defense, grinning ear to ear as he moved, reaching out for the napkins on the bedside table. “I swear I’m not.”

“You don’t have to convince me, still want you regardless,” Sam smiled and rolled off of Dean, “Haven’t gotten off that quick since I was a teenager.”

The older Winchester laughed as he cleaned himself up, tossing the napkins in the trash can and turning back, grabbing Sam’s arm to draw him in, “Me neither,” He said, eyes searching his brother’s, “It’s okay though, we’ve got time.”

Sam laced Dean’s finger’s with his own and laid his head on his brother’s shoulder, “And each other.”


End file.
